Love Spell Gone Wrong
by GodlyAppleJuiceReborn
Summary: Antonio and Lovino are stupid and in Francis's poor attempt to hook them up one way or another, goes wrong; they can all count on a little magic to help them out. /Multi-chapter/Work in Progress/


Love Spell Gone Wrong

_This story is unedited, like how most of my stories are. (If you spot a mistake, point it out to me? Would mean __**so **__much!)_

**Summary:** Antonio and Lovino are stupid and in Francis's poor attempt to hook them up one way or another, goes wrong; they can all count on a little magic to help them out.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia or it's characters.

**Warning:** None in this prologue. Some foul language if you're not into that. Maybe in a chapter I'll spice it up a bit, but let's just stick with this, yeah?

**A/N:** THANKS FOR ANYONE WHO READ AND FAVORITED/REVIEWED/FOLLOWED ON MY OTHER STORY "Not a Cuddle Cult"!

And/or sacrificed a goat's blood and used their mother's best candles to express their love. I am now powerful enough to actually post this prologue.

I had this idea for the _longest_ time and I just now started writing it out. Though I haven't decided what _exactly_ the spell gone wrong is going to be, so if you have any ideas, tell me! Who knows, I might choose it. :D

Now, this prologue is in France's POV. I mean, after all, it _is_ his fault for everything happening in the first place. And there will be bits and pieces of France's POV in upcoming chapters. Like, behind the scenes and such? Yeah.

But I'm pretty sure I'll be coming in from Lovino's perspective on this whole thing so haha, yeah.

So, Enjoy!

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Prologue: Francis's magical idea.

Francis _swore_ that he wasn't breaking and entering. That is, if there was anyone to swear to, considering that there was no one currently home at the Italian household that he vaguely recognized as Lovino's. Despite what others might say, Francis _was_ decent.

Well, decently enough that he felt slight guilt at entering the stubborn Italian's home without his permission. Not decent enough to _not_ snoop around though.

After all, this was a once in a lifetime chance. Antonio was too childishly selfish that he was slightly jittery around Francis and wouldn't leave Francis alone in a 100 radius of Lovino, _much_ less allow him in Lovino's personal home. The lingering threat of the mere wrath of Antonio made Francis less than eager to advance on Lovino and his personal home.

Which brings him to recap the events that lead Francis _in_ Lovino's home. What happened? How did he get there? Why _is_ he there if he knows he shouldn't? And _why_ is he being an invasive bastard and snooping around?

First things first:

Francis snooped around because he was, well, _Francis_. And while that was the least of his problems, it still needed to be addressed up and foremost.

Now, onto _why_ he was there. Well, the answer is relativity simple...actually, no, scratch that, it was pretty complicated, but the source of it all was simple.

Arthur Kirkland, AKA England. Or as Francis likes to dub him, the gentleman of magic using bastards who love picking on poor Frenchmen like himself.

For _whatever_ reason that Arthur decided, Francis has found himself in a dilemma. While he was no longer surprised at how Arthur decided to punish him, it still was pretty frustrating and not to mention annoying. Still, Francis had to give Arthur points on creativity this time.

Because, Francis himself wasn't cursed. (Was he? He doubted it.) But his _house_. His poor innocent home cursed by the gloomy bastard. Now every time Francis tried to go home, he would instantly be transported to another house.

First time, Francis left Roderich's home with a souvenir of a pan-shaped bruise, gifted by Elizaveta.

Second time, Francis fled from Russia with surely to come nightmares granted to him by Ivan's scary little sister.

Third times the charm, Francis mused, as he entered Lovino's bedroom.

Getting right to the good part, Francis crossed the threshold and headed over to the bed. Rubbing his hands slightly together, a small smile on his face, Francis braced himself to look under the bed. Because where else would dirty secrets would be kept?

After a melodramatic revealing of falling to the ground and peering under the bed, Francis stood up with a disappointed sigh.

Obviously not under the bed for the irate Italian.

Lovino was childish just like Antonio. Which made sense, now that Francis thought about it, considering Antonio was the one who brought up the surly Lovino. Still, despite what Lovino said, he was a childish individual.

Just as childish as Antonio, if not more.

Still, Francis _adored_ the expressive Italian. His advances were not in vain, for he really did admire the Italian. Still, he supposed his crusade of love for the Italian was better stopped than ongoing. After all, what would Antonio do?

Francis paused briefly, an icy feeling in his gut.

Francis had _seen_ what Antonio could do. It would not be nice.

When Francis swallowed, it was thick with dread. With adrenaline now quickening his haste in his search for _something_ that Lovino could be hiding, Francis opened the walk in closet. Flipping the switch on, Francis felt more disappointed at just seeing it was just a seemingly ordinary closet (Of course, it _was_ a closet).

Seemingly ordinary closet, Francis mused, as he knelt in a dark corner of the small interior. Pulling the box out of the shadowy recesses, he grinned.

He just _knew_ Lovino had some dirty secrets up his sleeves. If not, than Francis would be slightly worried.

Opening the box, a shoe box from outdated shoes from a few years ago, Francis frowned at the insides of the cardboard interior. Instead of dirty toys or secrets Francis had been hoping to find, it was developed pictures. Not even _dirty_ pictures.

Unless pictures of Antonio and Lovino were considered dirty, then Francis came up empty handed.

"Tsk, tsk, Lovino." Francis scolded, pulling out a dusty picture of Lovino and Antonio. "How can big brother France have any fun if you don't put your dirty secrets somewhere where I can find them?"

With a sigh, he tucked the picture into his pocket and put the box up. With a grunt, Francis stood and dusted himself off, glancing around. If that was all, then all Francis needed to do was get out and go to the magic bastard of tea to beg and demand his house back.

Walking down the hall and down the stairs, he was already pulling out his phone and calling his boss to arrange a quick flight to England. While his boss was strict in his rules, this _was_ considered a national matter for Francis. After all, what could Francis do when he couldn't even enter his _home_?

"Bonjour- oh, er, Hello." Francis reminded himself to speak English, the new international language for the world. A bitter taste in his mouth. "How are you? I need to have a flight arranged from Naples, Italy, directly to London- Why are you yelling?"

Francis pulled the phone away from his ear when his boss screamed so loud it made the connect crackle. Not that it wasn't already static and voices, but still, Francis could only take so much noise damage.

"Please, and _merci_-" Hanging up, Francis sighed and stared soulfully at his cellphone. Why his boss distrusted him so much, was a mystery. But Francis could count on that when he arrived at the next nearest airport, a plane would be scheduled for him.

One last mournful glance around, memorizing the interior of the Italian's house because this truly _was_ a once in a lifetime experience for Francis, he made his way towards the front door. He was about to open it to exit when the door opened by itself.

Southern Italy and Francis both blinked at each other, one frozen in shock. The latter in growing horror at how many scenarios this ended with. None of which ended without Antonio finding out and- _Positive thoughts, positive thoughts-_

"...Hi?" Francis meekly offered.

All he saw next a brief dizzying flash of dark brown hair and a twitching curl before a sharp crack of pain landed on his chin. Next thing he knows, he's on the floor and Lovino is already pulling out his phone, and he wants to beg, to plead, Lovino to _not_ _call him_-

"W-wait-!" Francis slurred, sitting up sluggishly. "I-I can explain!"

"I don't want a damn explanation, bastard!" Lovino snapped, not glancing up from his phone. "I want Spain to come here and kick your ass."

"Oh _God_- Please, no." Francis whined, rubbing his chin. "I can't deal with him right now- Really, I can explain. Just listen, please? Er, what do you Italians say? _Por favor_?"

"That's fucking Spanish, idiot." Lovino glared. "It's _'Por favore'. _And give me on good reason while the phone is ringing to hang up and listen to your piss poor explanation." The phone was pressed to his ear, and he stared expectantly at Francis.

Sometimes, Francis forgets how _childish_ this boy can be. Still, he'll play. Anything to save his poor little mini. "I, er, I will...I will-" He stuttered. "I'll- I don't know! I'll do something, I promise, just please-"

There was a brief pause and the silence was deafening. Lovino smiled cruelly when there was a faint noise on the other side of the phone. If Francis strained his ears, he could hear the faintly Spanish tinted voice-

"_Hola-"_ Francis thought he heard him say more but he was already throwing himself at Lovino's feet.

"Please, please, please! I beg of you, Lovino! I'll promise not to speak to you at the next world meeting, I won't even _glance _at you- Just, please-!"

"_Francis? Is that Francis on the other-"_

"Deal, bastard." Lovino nudged the nearly sobbing and desperate country with his toe. While he shut the door, he addressed the increasingly worried voice on the other line. "See ya, tomato bastard."

"_Lovino-!_"

Lovino hung up, and crossed his arms. He eyed Francis, who was sniffling on the floor in front of him. Francis stared back. After a pause, Lovino raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Oh, right. The explanation. Francis gathered himself up, and put a suitable distance between the two, not wanting to push his fate. Though he had a sinking feeling in his gut and he already had a feeling that the next time he saw Antonio, he wasn't going to be let off easy.

"Well, Lovino, it's all very funny in perspective..." Funny to the magic bastard, Francis thought. He must be sitting in his kitchen drinking is bitter leaf water and having a laugh at Francis. "You know my relationship with Arthur, right?"

"Yeah, you two sort of have that sexual tension thing."

"Sexual-" Francis shook his head. "That's not the point." It wasn't going to be. "I _mean_, you know how Arthur is a magic user, right?"

"Riiiigggghht." Lovino sounded skeptical.

"You don't have to believe me, you know. What I am saying is true." Francis pouted. "Anyways, Arthur cursed my house and now I can't enter it without being transported to another house!"

Lovino paused. "You expect me to believe this bullshit?"

"Like I said before, you don't have to believe it." Francis smiled. "But I know what it is. So, if you excuse me, I need to find Arthur and get my house un-cursed or something." He waved his hand in an uncaring gesture. "I need to hide before Antonio finds me."

"Tch. It's your fault for being here." Lovino scowled. "Just because you and the tea bastard are having dick problems doesn't change the fact that you're here. And that you're creepy, dammit."

Francis feigned hurt. "That hurts. I known you just as long as dear Antonio has. Shouldn't I be treated with the same respect?" He asks, rubbing his chin. "And ow."

Lovino stared at him, then glanced at the door and an entry way (kitchen, if Francis remembers correctly) down the hall. At last, he suffered a long sigh. "Come on, bastard." He muttered, walking past the confused country. He dropped his keys and wallet on the small table on his way towards the kitchen.

"Hm?" Francis mused, following. "Are you inviting me to dinner? It's been a long time since I ate proper food." He stated mournfully. His constant trips from place to place left him eating small snacks and stale airplane food.

"Hell no. I'm just getting you something before you get the fuck out of my house." Lovino stated.

Francis stayed silent. His chin still hurt from where Lovino headbutted him, and he rubbed at it delicately. It was rare to see Lovino being kind, so Francis knew when to push his luck. It wasn't that Lovino _wasn't_ kind, it was just that he rarely showed it.

This certainly was a once in a lifetime moment.

"So where were you? I was surprised I didn't get headbutted the first few minutes I was here." Francis asked. Lovino was milling about in the freezer part of his fridge, and he paused briefly before resuming his work. Francis decided to linger at the table, glancing around the small and homey kitchen.

"I was with someone." Lovino said hesitantly.

Francis's smiled. "Oh?" Lovino slammed the freezer door shut and glared at him. Francis knew better than to laugh at his adorable expression.

"Shut the fuck up." Lovino snarled and stormed over. Francis tensed, wondering if he should be worrying about another bodily wound. Instead, Lovino shoved a bag of cold vegetables in his hand. "It's not like that."

"Is that so?" Francis asked, pressing the cold bag to a swelling lump on his jaw. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and closed his eyes. "So no lover, I presume?"

"N-no!" Lovino snapped. "I don't think of him that way!"

"Him?"

"Yeah, _him_."

Francis frowned, wondering who it could be. Before shrugging and opening his eyes. "You can tell me, Lovino! I can help you get the guy; I am, after all, the country of _love_." He smiled, still pressing the bag to his jaw with both hands.

Lovino huffed. Francis could see the rising blush flush his cheeks though. "L-like hell I need _your_ help! And anyways, I don't even _need _it!"

"So you already have a plan to catch your man?" Francis pressed. "I would _love_ to hear it."

"No! I already fucking told you that I don't see him that way." Lovino was blushing. "Dammit, I don't see him that way. And he doesn't see me that way either!"

"Does this certain 'he' have a name?" Francis was smiling. He missed the days when Lovino and him would talk easily. It's been a long time since those days, and that was before Lovino grew into a beautiful young man and it had been slightly easier to restrain his _France _urges.

Lovino sneered. He was wringing his hands. "Like I'll fucking tell you-"

It looked like he was about to say something more, but a loud knocking on his door made him jump. Lovino glanced down the hall, and frowned. Francis set the bag down on the kitchen table and decided to go if Lovino had company.

Like he said before, he _was_ decent. Or, decent enough, at least.

He followed Lovino down the hall, and was about to say goodbye when he actually heard someone yelling behind the door for Lovino. Francis froze, and Lovino seemed frozen too. Both for different reasons, obviously.

"He...he's here in _Italy_?" Francis wanted to cry, and laugh, at his bitter fate.

"Well, _yea_. Who the fuck do you think I was seeing?" Lovino snapped, and looked like he was making move to open the door. Francis darted forward and grabbed his arm, smiling at him and glancing at the door.

"I—Let me sneak out the back, please! Before you open the door, please, please!" Francis begged and Lovino yanked his arm away from Francis. "I _need_ to leave! You wouldn't let dear Antonio hurt big brother Francis, would ya?"

"I'm fucking tempted, you bastard." Lovino muttered, rubbing his arm. "Fine, I'll count to fucking ten. Now get out of my sight."

"_Gracias-"_

"Fucking Spanish, you fucking idiot. _Grazie_. Now_ go_."

Francis didn't need to be told a third time, he was already half jogging and half running to the back the of the house. He barely made it to the outside porch that swung around the house when he heard a loud 'crash' and some colorful cursing from Lovino.

He would be more concerned if he wasn't being hunted for his life.

Francis swallowed dryly and made move to get off Lovino's property. First things first:

England.

…...

England was rainy and depressing like how Francis always remembered it.

He had to stop by the airports gift shop to actually get some decent clothes, so he wouldn't feel dirty and unclean. Now he had a "I Heart England" shirt on and he was trying to find a way to scratch the logo off before the taxi arrived at Arthur's house.

He still had the picture of Antonio and Lovino in his wallet. Francis had a feeling that he wasn't going to see them in a long while. He didn't _want _to see them. Especially Antonio.

Definitely Antonio.

Stifling a shudder, Francis peered out at the rainy England from the window. He smiled and let out a small scoff, remembering how red Lovino could get when talking about the delicate subject of _amour_. Though he wasn't surprised, in the least, that it was Antonio who managed to get the surly Lovino out of the house.

It was always a duo, a pair, hardly see one without the other nearby. So Francis just should have _known_ that Lovino just randomly decides to go out and enjoy his beautiful country. If Francis would have known that it was Antonio Lovino was with, then he could have had more fun at his expense.

Because it was completely _obvious _to every country about the huge crushes both harbored for one another.

Every country besides the two, at least. And those two are the ones that mattered.

Francis let out a soft sigh. It was a headache watching the two skirt around each other, and never really _doing_ anything about it. Elizaveta wanted to take matters into her own hands, along with the help from Kiku. He doubted that those two could do any _real _help; they both pass out from blood loss from a simple hug between the two of the crushing countries.

He wanted to help Lovino, and Antonio. He truly did, unlike the two perverts (honestly, those two are nice; but taking random pictures of people only to get nose blood on them seems rather too much- Then again, Francis shouldn't judge). The only trouble with that idea is that Francis didn't have a way to go about it.

The thing with Antonio and Lovino is that both were perplex in their own ways.

If you think that Francis didn't _try_ to hook those two up, then you would be wrong.

Because, by God, did Francis _try_-

It was like hitting a brick wall with the two of them. It would take a miracle of God to make them start dating each other. Or maybe...

Francis glance down at his t-shirt. The cheap logo with the "I Heart England" on the front of it helped pull out an idea that formed. He grimaced, and glanced back outside the window. Oh, he could see how the plan could go wrong in _many_ ways.

But still, it could _work_.

It'd just take a little magic, is all.

* * *

…

Yo, did you like this prologue? You want to see more? Then why not go outside your home and scream to the stars? I'll be listening.

No?

Then how about dropping a review, favorite, or follow on me? I smile when I get the notification in my mail.

Thanks for reading!


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